


Role Model

by deaddoh



Series: Haikyuu Pocket Universes [10]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Racing, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23951704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deaddoh/pseuds/deaddoh
Summary: Kyoutani bustles off every Friday evening from volleyball practice to work in a garage. Iwaizumi is a motorcycle racer with a one-man crew who plays volleyball and never shows his face to the camera.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kyoutani Kentarou
Series: Haikyuu Pocket Universes [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715062
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Role Model

**Author's Note:**

> quick preface, i'm using american flat track racing be what Iwaizumi does because in japanese auto-racing the races can't leave the dorm they all live in. american is just easier to work with

Iwaizumi sighs, letting the smoke slip between his lips and swirl in his vision. He watches other students bustle by, books in hand, and talking amongst themselves. The day is winding to a close, but the noise level remains the same, maybe even increases depending on who you ask. The man exhales again, looking over slightly.

“Kyoutani.”

“Iwaizumi.”

The smoker stubs out his cigarette and drops it into a trashcan, “Ready to head out?”

Kyoutani nods and the two walk away from campus. Iwaizumi shoves his hands into his pockets and fiddles with the lighter, rubbing the pad of his thumb on the cover. The lighter is one of those old-fashioned metal ones that ignites when the cover is opened. It’s a keepsake from his father with his family name carved out on the body.

“How’s volleyball treating you? Becoming a team player yet?”

The fake-blonde huffs quietly and it makes the other smile slightly, “It’s fine. I’m getting there.”

“Good.” Iwaizumi pats Kyoutani on the shoulder.

The smell of grease is strong and it makes Iwaizumi’s nose itch, despite his long experience with the smell and being in the garage. He fiddles with the kickstand, seeing all the grit in the joint the smoker sighs and slaps the floor for his rag. He finds it and grips the familiar feeling cloth, bringing it up to the kickstand and wiping at it. When he’s done, Iwaizumi pulls the rag away and swipes a thumb over the joint, checking if there’s residue.

“Need a new rag?”

The smoker chucks the dirty cloth from where he’s lying under his motorcycle, “Yep.” A clean rag falls into his open palm and he brings it back to the kickstand. He wipes at the joint a few more times until satisfied and slides out from beneath his bike.

“Shouldn’t you be back at your dorm?”

A shrug, “I guess.”

“Then you should go. I won’t be lonely.”

Kyoutani helps Iwaizumi up and the smoker rubs his dirty hands on his jeans. He’s silently handed a water bottle and the man takes a swig. “Alright, what’s wrong. I usually have to yell at you to get my water bottle.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” The blonde avoids eye contact, choosing to stare as the bolts still scattered on the floor from earlier. 

“Alright. Just tell me when you’re ready.” Iwaizumi moves to the sink and flicks on the faucet and sticks a fingertip into the Goop container, rubbing it over his palms and the backs of his hands. By the time Kyoutani moves to collect his stuff, the smoker is drying his hands with a dishtowel.

“See you next week, Iwaizumi.”

“See ya, kid.”

“You smell like a garage, Mad Dog.” Oikawa wrinkles his nose for effect and the other simply rolls his eyes and continues his cool-down stretches. Kyoutani sighs quietly as he pushes his thighs down in a butterfly-sit, feeling the burn then release of tight muscles. He switches into a pigeon-sit and leans over his front leg and letting his back flex a little.

Suddenly a warm hand presses between the blonde’s shoulder blades. “You do smell, Kyoutani.”

“Thanks for the observation.” Kyoutani switches legs and looks up to see Yahaba making a slight face of annoyance, his eyebrows are pinched slightly and his mouth is settled into a thin line. 

The blonde goes back to ignoring Oikawa and Yabaha, finishing his stretches and quickly making his way to the lockers. He showers and changes into his work clothes, grease-stained jeans, and an old shirt. Before Kyoutani can slip out, a finely manicured hand stops him, yet another warm palm on him. He glares at Oikawa. “What?”

“Where are you scampering off to? And so quickly at that.”

“None of your business. Now I’ve got to go.”

“Nu-uh. Not until you tell me.”

“Why do you even care?” The blonde frowns and tries to rein in his anger as Iwaizumi taught him. He takes a deep breath and sighs, turning to actually look at his captain. He musters his best glare but Oikawa doesn’t back down.

“Because I care about my teammates.” 

“I don’t have-”

Kyoutani’s phone starts ringing. It’s the standard ringtone and before the blonde can blink Oikawa has snatched the phone and answers it on speakerphone. “Hello? This is Oiwaka. Mad Dog can’t answer.”

_ “What the hell kind of nickname is that?” _

The captain frowns a little, “Something I made up, thank you.”

_ “Doesn’t matter. Tell Kyoutani to hurry up then, I’ve got a race to go to.” _

There’s a click, signifying the end of the call. Oikawa drops the phone into Kyoutani’s waiting and open hand with an annoyed huff. The rest of the locker room is quiet, seeming to digest what just happened. 

“Now I have more questions, Mad Dog.”

“Stop with the Mad Dog shit! I’ve got to go.”

“No! You still didn’t tell me.”

“This is ridiculous, how come no one else gets this shit?”

“Because you’re the only one who does anything like this.” 

“Arg! I’m leaving.”

The blonde shoves Oikawa’s hand off his chest and practically throws the locker room door open, letting it slam loudly behind him. 

“Who the hell answered your phone?”

“My idiot volleyball captain.”

Iwaizumi hums and drops the subject. He finishes the last rivet on his tire and pulls on his helmet, looking at the blonde before easing out of the garage.

He pulls up to the starting line and settles himself onto his bike, adjusting his helmet slightly. The smoker pops his wrists and grips his handlebars waiting for the green flag. He briefly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, gripping the clutch and placing a finger on the gear. He leans forward, letting his chest press against the handlebar pad.

When he opens his eyes, the green flag has been waved and he presses forward with all his weight and releases the clutch, shooting off like a rocket. All Iwaizumi can hear is his heartbeat and the roar of his engine. Quickly coming to the turn, he breaks then slams the gas, taking a leg off the bike’s footpeg and letting it hang off to balance how much he’s leaning.

The laps following are a blur as the motorcyclist outmaneuvers other racers and repeats the same moves until he sees the checkered flag and slows down. He sighs and looks down for the first time and sees how dirty he is and laughs quietly. Other people begin to pull up next to him and he exchanges a high-five with one guy with a black and white helmet and grabs the hand of another racer with a bright orange helmet, who came in second right behind Iwaizumi. As he stops, the smoker pulls his helmet off and is mobbed by the press. He smiles awkwardly and rolls his bike off to be interviewed.

A mic is shoved to Iwaizumi’s face, “Congratulations on your fourth consecutive win!”

“Ah, thank you.”

“We all want to know one thing, do you know what it is?” 

“No, tell me.” He smiles and tries to not be blinded by all the lights.

“Where’s your crew? After every race, no matter win or lose, no one comes out to greet you. What’s up with that?”

“Oh, um.” The motorcyclist scratches the back of his head. “They’re not a fan of being on TV. They don’t wanna be bothered.”

“I get it, I get it.” The interviewer turns to the camera and smiles, “Thank you for tuning in to tonight’s race! See you next time!”

Kyoutani lands with a squeak after spiking and turns to look at Yabaha if he has any criticisms but is met with a surprised expression. The brunette’s eyes are wide and mouth slightly open. The blonde, instead of waiting, rolls his eyes and walks under the net to start practicing receives. Even Oikawa looks surprised and Kyoutani huffs out, “What?”

“This is the most on-point you’ve been!” The captain grins, a bit too manic looking in the blonde’s opinion. “Did anything happen recently?”

Kyoutani shakes his head and readies to receive. The ball soars over the net and he cleanly bumps it to the coach standing by with the cart. His coach nods and sends another ball over to the spiking side. Kyoutani readies to receive and bumps the ball in a nice arch back to his coach.

“Something definitely happened.” Oikawa sings, after the coaches called it quits for the day. The setter looks ecstatic and it makes the blonde uncomfortable. “Nothing happened.”

“Kyoutani, wait.”

The spiker heaves a sigh and turns to see Yabaha and Oikawa. Oikawa steps forward, “We just want to know why you were doing so well today.”

“Why does that matter? Shouldn’t you _ not _ be questioning it?” The blonde grits out.

“At least tell us why you’re always running off so quickly. Faster than any other day.”

“And I have to tell you this because?”

“We care, Mad Dog.”

“Oh my God.” Kyoutani face-palms and sighs, turning back to the door. “Well I don’t, so stop bothering me.”

“Let us escort you, at least.” The brunette tries, Yabaha looks a bit distressed. 

“Fine. Hurry.”

The three walk out of the gym, with Oikawa and Yabaha sharing nervous glances as they walk through campus to the front gate. The sun hasn’t begun to set, yet the light is still low from all the trees and buildings blocking the light. Kyoutani sees a familiar lighter and stops a little bit away, which prevents Oikawa and Yabaha from seeing who he’s meeting with.

“Brought friends, Kyoutani?” There’s a swirl of smoke accompanying the words and the blonde hopes to God that his idiot captain and Yabaha are scared. “How unusual.”

“They’re not my friends, just my captain and a setter. They insisted on dropping me off.”

Iwaizumi sighs, more smoke flows out from the shadows. “Well let’s go. I’ve got to do a tune-up.”

“Wait! Who are you?” The captain sounds nervous and Kyoutani smiles internally. “I won’t let Mad Dog walk away with you unless I see your face.”   


“Really?” Iwaizumi sounds incredulous and laughs slightly. “That won’t be necessary.”

“But I can’t my precious  _ kohai _ walk off with someone who could be with the  _ yakuza _ .” The captain is basically whining. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not.”

“Well, I can’t tell.”

“Jesus fuck! Stop acting like my parents or something! I need to leave with this person.” Kyoutani steps away from his teammates and Yabaha’s hand shoots out and grabs the blonde’s wrist. 

“Absolutely not!” Yabaha sounds a bit panicked.

“Kyoutani. Shake ‘em off.” Iwaizumi huffs out a swirl of smoke before walking deeper into the shadows of the now setting sun. He listens the motorcyclist’s footsteps recede before whipping around with anger set in his eyes.

“Are you two fuckin’ kidding me?!”

“What?! We’re worried about you! We don’t even know who that guy is!” The setter shrills. Yabaha nods in agreement and Kyoutani sighs again.

“Leave me be.” The blonde stomps after Iwaizumi and ignoring Oikawa and Yabaha’s calls.

The garage is silent except for the sounds of running water as Iwaizumi rinses off his bike. Kyoutani watches the dirty water run down the drain in a whirlpool of browns and blacks. He sighs, with his back to the main workbench he picks up, and starts to twirl, a wrench in his hand the weight and dinks in the metal long familiar. Through the crack of the garage door the blonde can see that the sun has fully set and that night-life is starting to awaken.

“They care, Kyoutani.”

“I know. It’s just weird when it’s not from you.”

The water stops running and the garage is a lot quieter. The motorcyclist rewinds the hose and hooks the nozzle onto it’s peg to keep it from twisting onto itself. He watches Iwaizumi pull out the fan used for drying the bike, the smoker having always been weary of rust. With nothing left to clean, the older turns to Kyoutani and the blonde turns to face the workbench.

“I’m coming to your game tomorrow.”

A puff of smoke enters the volleyball player’s vision and he swats it away, working on the engine currently sitting on the workbench. He cleans the cooling fins and wipes down the whole thing multiple times before looking over at Iwaizumi.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” The reply is gruff and fills Kyoutani’s vision with more smoke. He doesn’t bother to wave it away and instead inhales deeply, wishing the nicotine did something more for him. He returns to working on the engine, sticking a finger into the oil feed line to check for gunk. Finding none, he moves to the rocker arm and checks for dirt.

“It’s nice being thorough, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s hard for me because of my hands.”

The blonde leans back and stretches, hearing his back crack. He sighs and looks at Iwaizumi and raises an eyebrow, a silent question. The other sighs and takes a deep drag from his cigarette and turning his head away to exhale. “Had a wreck. Bad one. Ruined my hands for a long while. They’re not good for too much.”

The college student nods and returns to cleaning the engine, not missing the sound of rustling and the click of a lighter.

The motorcyclist looks up at the gymnasium and sighs before leaning against the wall and pulling out a cigarette. He lights the end and takes a drag, feeling the anxiety that was building moments ago now fall away. Iwaizumi closes his eyes and listens to the movement of people around him and lets himself get lost in the noise. The sounds of synchronised footsteps makes him crack an eye open to see a white and teal colored team pass by. The racer sees Kyoutani and closes his eye again.

In the gym, the noise is even worse. The sounds of cheering and shouting and vendors. Iwaizumi hopes to God that he won’t be recognized, but still moves along the walls just in case. He finds a staircase and walks up, finding himself at the seats and moves to sit by the white and teal color-coordinated cheer team, but far away enough not to not seem associated. 

Iwaizumi watches Kyoutani’s team spill out from the doors below him and the people beside him explode into noise and he watches the coaches gather all the players and give them a pep-talk before sending the starters onto the court. The motorcyclist is surprised to see Kyoutani as a starter.

The game is over quickly. Kyoutani’s team sweeping the other is a mess of spikes and beautiful tosses. Iwaizumi stands and heads down to the entrance. He pushes the door open and steps out into the sun and walks away from the door to smoke. The motorcyclist pulls out his cigarette packet and dumps one out. He places it in his mouth and pulls out his lighter, flicking it open.

“Oikawa-san! Let’s take a picture.”

Iwaizumi looks over to see the setter from Kyoutani’s team surrounded by girls smiling and posing for a picture. He watches for a bit longer, deciding to turn away to continue smoking. Finding a new spot the motorcyclist takes a drag of his cigarette and sighs deeply, watching the smoke float away.

“Congrats on your win kid.”

The blonde hums and the smoker passes the other his cigarette and Kyoutani takes a drag. The volleyball player exhales and passes back the cigarette. Iwaizumi leans back and the other does the same, letting the noise of people wash over them. The two pass the motorcyclist’s cigarette back and forth until it’s burned down to the tan butt.

“Mad Dog!”

Kyoutani jolts and Iwaizumi looks over, seeing the setter from earlier. He crosses his arms and sends the blonde a disapproving look. “Are you smoking?”

“Nah.”

The brunette makes an affronted noise, “You’re lying!”

“If you know that, then why ask?”

“Because!”

The smoker takes a drag of his new cigarette and stands, cracking his neck before turning to the setter with his fiercest glare. The setter looks nervous as his eyes flick between the blonde and Iwaizumi. He lets the silence sit for a second and sighs out a puff of smoke. “Can I help you?”

“No! I need Mad Dog to come back with me immediately!” 

“Don’t bother with him.” Kyoutani turns to the motorcyclist, “Let’s go.”

“You’re not going anywhere!” Another voice cuts in and the blonde is pulled towards a kid with dirty blonde hair and a nasty looking expression. Kyoutani looks pissed and the smoker shakes his head while exhaling.

“Don’t get him in trouble.”

“And why should I do that?”

“Because he’s your ace, is he not? It would suck if you suddenly didn’t have one.”

“You were watching our volleyball game? Why? To be a pervert?!”

Iwaizumi sighs again and takes a drag, “No. I was here to support someone.”

“Who?!” The setter snaps out, obviously reaching the end of his rope dealing with the smoker and the constant wiggling the blonde is doing to escape the other’s grip. 

Kyoutani meets Iwaizumi’s eyes and nods slightly. The motorcyclist pinches the bridge of his nose and looks back to the setter and his friend. “This is ridiculous. Just let Kyoutani leave with me.”

“You know his name! Are you a relative? If you are then you shouldn’t let someone athletic sm-”

In the blink of an eye, the motorcyclist clamps a hand over the setter’s mouth and has pulled the blonde from the second person’s hold. He glares at the brunette. “He’s my apprentice. Now back off!” Iwaizumi shoves the setter, watching as he stumbles. His lips curl and the two finally walk away.

**Author's Note:**

> there might be a second part? not sure


End file.
